Blind Obedience
by corriandar
Summary: B is simply a toy to L, something he can use to satisfy his own cravings and desires, but if B knows this, why does he still allow it? Yaoi. Non-graphic.


**AN: I have been hooked on Death Note for a while, but I actually haven't finished the series, even though I was SPOILED and now I know what happens at the end. But anyway, I just finished reading The Los Angeles Murder Cases book, and it was heaps good! XD**

**This is my first DN fanfic, and I'm sorry if anyone is upset that I made L a (sort of) manipulative bastard -__- And also I'm more of a Light fan than of any other characters… hehe?**

**Oh and uh, B's about 16-17 in this… sorry if it doesn't fit in the timeline, but yeah just so you know this is NOT shota… :|**

**Let me know if it's ok?**

**Please read and review :)**

**Ok, just realized some mistakes and trying to edit them, if anyone finds anymore PLEASE let me know ;D**

--

He was staring into the mirror again, glaring at his own flawed reflection, pale fingers tracing over delicate features. His hand stayed poised over his lips, gently caressing, rubbing against his soft supple skin. He leaned forward to press a kiss against the cold mirror, his eyes lightly closed. He wished it was L he was kissing, not his own reflection, L's lips would have been warm, unlike B's who's were as cold as ice. He pulled back after a moment, staring into his own black eyes, desperately wishing they were _somebody _else's.

"B, what are you doing?"

Fuck.

He hadn't even heard the creak of the door opening, let alone the heavy thud of any footsteps. He didn't bother to turn around, recognizing the voice of his beloved idol immediately; it was L. The mirror revealed that L was standing behind him, wide, black rimmed eyes watching the scene carefully; analyzing. "Nothing." He replied, an outright lie that L was sure to catch.

L moved closer, grayish evening light flowing in from the small window making his face appear even paler, he reached out to rest his hand on B's messy black hair; identical to his own. "You're trying too hard." He whispered, bending down so that his soft lips were against B's ear. B shivered silently, his heart pounding and hands shaking, what was it he felt? Love? Infatuation?

Obsession.

He swallowed, urging the dry bitterness in his mouth to disappear. He wanted to reach up at kiss L, touch him, _fuck _him. He kept silent, staring vaguely at his reflection in the mirror, B for Backup glared back at him, no words spoken. L rubbed his hand along B's jaw, smearing the heavily applied foundation that he'd used so desperately to hide his flaws, he still didn't look like L.

He whined as L removed his hand, he wanted his idol in anyway he could have him, be it friendship, love, hatred or narcissistic sex. He was willing to take anything he could get.

"Hush now B, I won't tolerate any of that." L whispered, his soft voice almost going unheard had B not been straining his ears. B nodded wordlessly, watching himself in the mirror as L wiped away he carefully constructed mask, blemishes shining through cracks of thick layers of foundation.

He glanced at L, his face truly beautiful compared to B's own, a mocking contrast of beauty and ugliness. He almost swore, how could L even look at him now? With his skin barren and flawed, how could _anyone _look at him?

L had placed his thumb over B's eye, gently rubbing away the eyeliner, unnatural black smudges now surrounding his eyes. He stared up at the elder of the two, mesmerized by his flawless pretty face, the perfectly shaped nose, pale wet lips, and mirroring black eyes. He had all the beauty that B lacked. L placed his hands on either side of his face and softly pressed his warm lips against B's cold fore head, B shivered in delight at the caring gesture, a small smile plastered on his pale face.

"L…" he whispered, lifting his hand and moving it towards his idols cheek, intending to cup the soft flesh. He frowned when his hand was quickly slapped away; the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through out the dimly lit room, an offended expression darkened the younger boys face.

"Why can't I?" He mumbled, his voice laced with undisguised hurt, confidence slowly evaporating with L's rejection. L sighed, his breathing soft and shallow as he contemplated the best way to tell B, he knew the younger of the pair would not take it too well.

"Am I nothing to you?" B whispered, unable to look into L's eyes, "Am I just a toy? For your own amusement?" he said quietly, matted ebony locks shading his face from view. B grit his teeth at the realization that L had remained silent, neither agreeing nor denying his accusations; but it was too late, the seeds of doubt had already been planted in the young wards mind.

It was amazing how L's silence could answer every single doubt he had, and with no words spoken at all, just from the guilty expression on his beautiful face. But he had suspected it before, long before, except it had been easier to deny back then, easier to pretend that his paranoia was just a side effect of the medication.

But now that he knew; he still didn't care. It changed nothing. He would take what ever he could get, even if it lacked the thing he needed most, he'd still take it.

"Don't feel upset." L muttered in a half hearted attempt at reassurance, his dexterous fingers lazily tracing patterns on B's tense shoulder, his muscles taut and prepared for a fight. He desperately wanted to shake his head in denial, because B was never upset, he simply… couldn't be.

Before he knew it, L had pulled away, his tall figure taking steady steps into the shadows and towards an unmade bed that both had many memories of. B watched as L made a 'come here' gesture with his pale hand, his deadpan expression the same as ever, unchanging and never betraying his true thoughts.

B complied.

And as he was pushed onto his back with a quiet gasp, as he leaned into L's predatory embrace, as his clothes with torn off without consideration, he never once noticed the small victorious smirk that marred his idol's beautiful face. Because L knew that he'd always get what he wanted, and it was represented through the mocking smirk when his backup was beneath him, being used like a rag doll.

--

Later in the night, long after L had left and the sticky sheets had been removed, B stood up with a wince and slowly walked back over to his most prized possession; the mirror.

He sat down with a slight cringe, a sharp pain shooting up his spine with almost every movement, but he almost enjoyed the pain, because it was a reminder, a beautifully painful reminder of what L had done to him, and _only_ him.

He was special.

He glared into the mirror and picked up a much used tube of foundation, and began to carefully reapply his ruined make up, starting with the base and retouching almost every detail of his face that made him _himself_.

Slowly, he transformed back to the perfect vision of his beloved idol.


End file.
